Awakening
by DandelionSunset
Summary: After happening upon Capitol fanfiction of Peeta and herself, Katniss begins to wonder about the future of their relationship. They've grown close in the 2 years since returning to District 12, but she longs to be even closer - as close as they can get. *ONE-SHOT*


**AN:** This is a **one-shot** written for the 'Growing Together' prompt in the farewell tour round of Prompts In Panem. Many thanks to deinde-prandium, papofglencoe, and tanb for their fantastic beta skills! You ladies are wonderful! Also, you can find me on tumblr at **dandelion-sunset**. :)

* * *

 **Awakening**

As I open the door to Peeta's house, I'm immediately hit with the intoxicating aroma of cheese buns. I should be used to it after nearly two years, but no matter how much I'd eaten earlier, the scent of Peeta's baking still makes my stomach growl.

I dust the freshly fallen snowflakes from my jacket and take the cap off my head as I enter the kitchen. Peeta's standing at the counter decorating a cake, with a plate full of cheese buns waiting for me off to the side. I waste no time in closing the distance, grabbing one, and taking a seat on a bar stool opposite of him.

"So how was your hunt?"

"I didn't really do any hunting. Just kind of sat and thought for a while," I answer, placing my elbow on the counter and resting my chin on my palm. "It was cold, but peaceful."

"Well, I'm glad you came back when you did. They're calling for a blizzard, and I didn't want to get lost in the woods trying to find you," he comments as he frosts a yellow flower.

"That's just what I need, to be cooped up in the house for a week or two," I groan.

"Yeah, but you'll be with me," Peeta brightly counters. "It'll be like last year's snowstorm. I'll make us cocoa and cookies… not to mention endless cheese buns. You could have worse company, you know."

I can't help but smile at his earnest declaration, a slight blush making its way into my cheeks. Images of cuddling together under a blanket in front of the fireplace, filling our bellies with baked goods while playing a game of 'Real or Not Real' come to mind. At least, that's how we spent a lot of last winter. Peeta's regained most of his memories since then, though, so who knows how we'll spend time getting through it this year. Probably by working on the Memory book, which we began a few months back.

"Speaking of worse company, have you talked to Haymitch lately? He hasn't been over to work on the book for a few days."

"Yeah, earlier today. Same as always. He got a new shipment of liquor, so you know, he's happy in his own little world right now. Or as happy as he _can_ be," Peeta replies. "He gave us another box of Capitol newspapers and magazines to go through, though."

I nod unenthusiastically. It always puts me in a foul mood to read about the brash, opulent lives of Capitol citizens, and the abrasive content sometimes triggers Peeta into one of his episodes. But every once in a while, we'll find a piece about a past Victor or Tribute, and honoring their memory far outweighs my annoyance. And if Peeta persists in doing it, despite the hell it sometimes puts him through, I have no room to complain.

"When do you want to start on them?"

Peeta shrugs and looks at me with raised eyebrows. "Now, if you want? I was going to start earlier, but it's better when we do it together. I figured I'd wait until you got back."

"Okay, I guess. But what about your cake?"

"I can finish it later," he smiles, setting the pastry bag down on the counter, then reaching behind his back to untie his apron. "It was really just a distraction until you came home anyway."

 _Until I came_ _ **home**_ _._

An unexpected warmth shoots through me at those words. I _do_ spend most of my time at Peeta's nowadays; I eat, sleep, and do almost all my daily activities here. I rarely ever go to my place anymore. It holds too many haunting memories, ghosts I don't want to wake. I only go to my house to grab clothes, bathe, or when I need time alone for a while - though I usually just retreat to the woods for that. Even Buttercup has taken up residency here.

Maybe this _is_ kind of my home, too.

Peeta places his apron on the counter before making his way into the dining room. I follow closely behind.

I see that he already has the contents of the box spilled out in a cluttered pile, waiting for us in the center of the table. Taking a deep breath to calm my nerves, I take a seat across from him and promptly pick up a magazine titled ' _Capitol Crusade._ ' It's supposed to have 'gripping social commentary', but in reality holds little depth - unless you're passionate about celebrities wearing out-of-date fashions and gossip on the latest Capitol scandal, like who cheated on who in the entertainment business. Still, the Hunger Games used to be one of the biggest sensations to write about, so occasionally we'll find a rare gem of substance hidden within.

Peeta grabs another magazine called ' _Yesterday and Tomorrow_ '; it's a little more serious than the one I have, but not by much.

We fall into silence as we continue to flip through the pages. Just as I reach the end of my magazine, the table gives a jolt when Peeta grips the edges, his knuckles turning white from the pressure. His eyes are squeezed shut with a deep crease between his brows, and his mouth is a thin, white line.

Immediately, I try to calm him, speaking of things like sunsets and baking - anything to get his mind away from whatever horror it's currently imagining.

"Peeta…" I say gently, reaching over and placing my hand on his. "Come back to me. Whatever you're seeing right now, _it's not real_."

Finally, with a long, raspy breath, his body relaxes and he opens his tear-brimmed eyes.

"This time it _was_. What I did was real," he mumbles.

"What do you mean?"

He slides the closed magazine across the table towards me. "There's an interview with Brutus' family in there."

"Oh," I whisper. "I'll toss it out."

"No," Peeta replies in a firm tone, meeting my eyes. "You'll have to add him to the book when I'm not around. But he should still be remembered."

"Are you sure?" I ask slowly. "In all likelihood, it'll probably be only me, you, and Haymitch to ever look through it. I can guarantee we're not going to miss him."

"Yeah, I'm sure," he answers, his jaw tensing. "You never know, in the future… well, you never know what it might bring. We might not be the only ones to ever look through it. I'd rather our book be complete."

I nod and move the magazine to the side, knowing it's pointless to argue. Peeta has a hardened look of resolve on his face that I've come to realize means he's made up his mind and there's no budging it. Usually, however, these looks are only reserved for small things, such as arguing the point that I need a jacket when it's only slightly chilly outside, which I always wind up wearing.

I'm about to reach for another magazine when he lets out such a sudden, boisterous laugh that it makes me jump. It's such a reversal from the mood he held only a couple seconds ago, I find myself confused and curious as to what would emit such a reaction from him.

"What?" I ask quickly.

He points to the magazine in his hands, but can't control his laughter long enough to answer. I narrow my eyes in question, so he turns the cover towards me.

My mouth drops open as I read the title:

 _ **Sensuous Sexuality:**_ _A Collective Writing Edition_

 _Featuring the Star-crossed Lovers of District 12_

"Seriously?" I bark indignantly. "That's disgusting! I know the Capitol loves its entertainment, but that's taking it _way_ too far. I can't believe they actually wrote about us having…" I cover my face with my hands, as if that'll make the magazine vanish from existence. "Ugh. And who knows how many people have read it!"

"Nothing the Capitol does surprises me," Peeta states. "I mean, I'd prefer they wrote some fantasy nonsense about what they _think_ happened between us rather than forcing us to perform the act live on TV for them."

I become nauseated at the thought. Honestly, I'm surprised Snow _didn't_ make us do that to 'prove our love' for each other. However horrible he may have been, I'm grateful he wasn't perverted enough to take things to that extreme.

" _I'd_ prefer they be decent and not write filth about me," I scowl, dropping my hands into my lap. He still has a hint of a smile on his face, as if this is all some sort of amusing joke. Why isn't he as embarrassed and irritated as I am? They wrote the most intimate of lies about us and distributed it to the public - there's nothing _at all_ funny about it.

"Of course I'd prefer that, too," he nods, giving me his best attempt at a sympathetic look. His eyes have a mischievous glint to them, however, so his words do nothing to placate me. "You could write them a strongly worded letter?"

"Don't mock me, Peeta."

"I'm not. But this came out a while ago. So really, what's done is done."

"Thanks. That makes me feel so much better," I deadpan.

My eyes widen as he begins to flip through the pages. I fight the urge to jump across the table and grab the magazine out of his hands.

"Peeta! What the hell?" I snap.

"What?" He looks up at me with a sheepish smile."I'm a little curious. Aren't you?"

I'd be lying if I said I _wasn't_ a tiny bit curious, but I'd never admit it out loud. The fact that Peeta wants to read about us having sex together, well… I don't know how I feel about that. It stirs something in my gut that isn't exactly unpleasant, and it both terrifies and excites me.

"No!" I shake my head. "Why would I be interested in reading a bunch of strangers' stories about me having sex?"

"With me," he adds with a wink.

I blink in surprise. The topic of sex, let alone with each other, is not something we've ever discussed before. However, I've thought about it more often than I'd like to admit. It makes me wonder if Peeta has had the same thoughts. He certainly doesn't seem upset or opposed to the idea. Then again, maybe he finds it all to be a great big joke and wants a hearty laugh out of it.

"Exactly!" I look down at the table, avoiding his eyes. "It's just… awkward."

"You think sex with me would be awkward?" he asks softly.

My heart stops for a second as I'm put on the spot. How the hell do I reply to that? It's a trick question. Answering yes or no would indicate that I've thought about having sex with him.

I cut my eyes at him. "I meant it'd be awkward to read Capitol interpretations of us…" Instead of finishing the sentence, I raise my eyebrows pointedly and purse my lips, gesturing towards the magazine in his hands.

"Well, I think it'd probably be hilarious," he shrugs, smirking and looking far too at ease with the situation. In fact, I think he's getting a kick out of embarrassing me.

"So you think sex with me would be hilarious?" I ask, throwing his words back at him and trying to make him feel as weird as I do.

"No," he answers. "Like you said, Capitol interpretations."

"Whatever," I mumble, crossing my arms. He must have taken my short reply as a cue to continue, because he begins to page through the magazine again.

Before I can object, he states with a chortle, "Hey, they have pictures in here too."

"Of _us_?" I ask quickly, horrified.

He shakes his head and my body relaxes a little.

"No, only of models pretending to be us," he replies, then covers his mouth to stifle a laugh. With no warning whatsoever, he turns the magazine towards me.

I squeeze my eyes shut and place a hand over them, feeling completely scandalized by what I've just been forced to see. It's a picture of us - or at least it's _supposed_ to be - but it looks nothing at all like us besides the hair. The models are stark naked from head to toe, holding hands side-by-side. The breasts that are supposed to be mine are quadruple the size of what mine really are, and Peeta… well, let's just say his private parts are _extravagantly_ endowed.

"Peeta!"

He laughs again and observes, sounding both amused and appalled, "That _has_ to be surgically enhanced or a photo manipulation. It'd injure someone. Just so you know, real ones don't look like that." He pauses for a moment before adding, "Mine is perfectly normal-sized."

"I _know_ what one looks like," I snap at him. When I remove my hand and open my eyes again to give him a glare, I feel a little satisfaction at the taken aback frown he's currently sporting. "The Capitol has never been exactly modest when it comes to nudity. Also, that woman looks _nothing_ like me."

"Of course she doesn't. Not at all. The real Katniss Everdeen is a lot more stunning," he agrees with a nod. His words have the effect of making me feel more naked than the models in the magazine.

"Yeah, I'm sure my scars are absolutely breathtaking," I mutter.

"I think everything about you is breathtaking," he states. I arch an eyebrow at him, looking for any sign of dishonesty, but I only find a warm, earnest smile. I feel a slight tug in my stomach. I want to say something, even argue the point, but I know he'd simply counter whatever I say. And I definitely do not want to get into a conversation about my apparent ability to take his breath away.

I'm saved from replying as he returns his attention to the magazine.

"So let's sneak a peek at what fictional shenanigans they've wrote us into, shall we?"

"I'd rather not," I mumble. However, when he looks up at me and bites his lip, reminding me of a puppy being scolded, I roll my eyes and reluctantly give in. "Fine. Just one. The _shortest_ one you can find. And then I'm throwing the stupid thing away."

He nods in agreement, his face lighting up as he flips quickly through the pages. What the hell did I just give permission to? I close my eyes and fold my arms as I sit back in my chair, waiting for it to be over.

"Ah, this looks like an interesting one. ' _A Night of Toasting: How a Baby is Made_ '," he reads.

My heart sinks into my stomach. I already know this is going to be intolerable.

"I think we _know_ how a baby is made–" I stop short as he begins to read out loud in an over-the-top Capitol accent:

"Seeing his long, hard arousal sticking out for her inevitable pleasure, Katniss could not hide her quivering desire, and ambushed Peeta onto the bed, straddling him. This was the moment both of them had been waiting for, ever since those long, lustful nights in the cave, ever since they were children. Peeta reached up and covered her breast with his hand, circling her pebbled nipple with his thumb. ' _I_ _love you so much_ ,' Katniss moaned–"

He doesn't get to read anymore before I hurl my body across the table and snatch it out of his hands.

"This is nothing but smutty garbage!" I rant as I make my way to the trash bin. "It's embarrassing that people think these things about us, let alone write and read about them. As if those nights in the cave were anything but agonizing. You were half _dead_ from a leg wound, for pity's sake! And I sure as _hell_ never thought about having sex as a child." I toss it into the bin with force, then swivel around in time to see Peeta covering his mouth, his body shaking with silent laughter. "What do you find so funny? That was revolting."

"Because you're right; it's totally absurd. They don't know us at all. Even if any of that had happened, there's no way you'd ever be like that," he shrugs.

Narrowing my eyes at him, I plop down into my chair. "Be like _what_ , exactly?"

"Well, for one thing, the Katniss _I_ know wouldn't go ambushing a penis like it's a cheese bun, let alone profess her undying love so easily," he answers.

"So you think I'm predictable," I say, raising my eyebrows. I find no humor in his observation, even if I know it's true. I'd never act in the way that ridiculous story had portrayed me, but for Peeta to conclude so knowingly that I'm basically a boring, passionless robot… well, it makes me feel indignant.

"No. That's not what I meant at all," he asserts, then runs a hand through his hair. "Look, it doesn't matter anyway, and I really don't want to spend the evening with you angry at me over some silly work of fiction. It's in the trash bin, where it belongs. So let's just forget about it and continue looking through the rest of this? Please?"

I give him one last disapproving look before reaching for another magazine.

We continue browsing the pages in silence, but my mind races and my eyes can't seem to focus on anything I'm looking at.

* * *

A few hours later, we're sitting in front of the fireplace, adding a few more entries into the Memory book. It's always been a sort of unspoken ritual for us, to sit in this particular spot whenever we work on it.

We haven't said much to each other since the incident earlier; there's a weird, formal politeness that has fallen between us. I don't like it at all. I just want things to be normal again, but I don't know what to say. I'm not sure why Peeta's gone quiet. Maybe he feels ashamed about what he did or said; if not, he should be. I wish I would've thrown that damn magazine away as soon as I seen it.

It isn't until we're putting the last addition into the book that Peeta finally breaks the silence.

"Katniss?" he begins with quiet hesitance, his brow furrowed, "I know we slept together on the train, but… was there ever more than just sleeping between us?"

My eyes widen at his question; I figured the answer would be rather obvious. Is that the reason why he's been so quiet all this time? Because he thinks we might've had sex before and he couldn't remember it? Has he been _trying_ to remember? Judging by the searching, curious look in his eyes, he had to have been. With this realization, my cheeks immediately burn red.

"No. Never," I reply. He nods once, frowning as his eyes fall back down to the book. "You look disappointed."

He quickly looks up at me with a shake of his head.

"No. I'm not disappointed, just… confused. Reading that earlier, I had a flash of…" He sighs heavily and rubs his eyes. "Nevermind. I'm probably just remembering a dream or something."

"I don't know what to tell you, but we never did anything like that."

"Why?"

I narrow my eyes at him. "What do you mean ' _why_ '?"

"I'm not saying we _should_ have," he clarifies. "I guess I'm just curious why we didn't. We were heading towards a death match, with the odds of one or neither of us coming out alive. We were engaged. Everyone thought we were lovers. All of Panem thought you were pregnant with my child. I mean, what did we really have to lose?"

I'd be annoyed with him asking such a question if it wasn't for the genuine confusion on his face and the heartfelt sincerity of his tone. I close my eyes, trying to find the answer. All sorts of reasons pop into my head, but most of them would only leave him with more questions. Back then, I wasn't ready for that kind of thing. I didn't want to give Peeta any false hope of us ever having a future together. Not just because we were in a constant fight to stay alive, but because he deserved what I couldn't give him: a family.

But now? Now we're the only family we have. I don't know what the future holds for us, and maybe it's a bit selfish on my part, but I can't lose him.

"Each other," I finally answer. "What if one of us had died and the other survived? I can only speak for myself, but… having _those_ sorts of memories and losing you? It would've haunted me for the rest of my life. At that time, what I needed was your companionship - and even then, it would've killed me to lose you. It did, actually. When you were taken…" My voice catches in my throat suddenly, preventing me from completing my sentence. I close my eyes and take a deep breath.

"But I'm here now," Peeta reminds me softly, placing his hand upon mine and caressing the top of it with his thumb. "We both are. And very much alive."

"Yeah. Lucky us," I whisper monotonously.

"To be alive against all odds? Yeah, we are." He turns my hand over and threads his fingers with mine, giving them a gentle squeeze. "Feeling guilty about being alive isn't going to bring anyone back. The best way to honor their memory is by living the best lives we possibly can."

"I know. Some days are just harder than others."

"Hell, even the good days have a little bad in them, Katniss. But we'll get through it together. We've been doing a pretty good job of it so far." He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, and I glance up at him with a small nod.

His knuckles graze across my cheekbone for only a second or two, but it's long enough to make my breath catch. He gives me a small, wistful smile, then takes his hand away from mine to close the Memory book.

I try to ignore how my hand feels cold at the loss of his.

"I think I'm going to go over to my house and nap for a bit," I announce as I stand up.

"You can sleep here if you want," he offers.

I shake my head. "I also need to take a shower-"

"It's not like you haven't showered here before," he points out.

"I know, but… I just need a little time by myself," I reply quietly. He gives me a questioning look, as if he's concerned I might be mad at him, so I quickly add, "It's nothing you did. It's just been an exhausting evening, and I need a few hours to wind down in solitude."

"Okay," he nods in understanding. "Will you be back tonight?"

I nod.

"Well, I guess I'll see you later then," he says. As I turn to leave, he calls after me, "Don't forget your coat in the kitchen!"

* * *

I sit with my legs crossed on my bed, staring contemptuously down at the magazine lying in front of me.

I can't believe what I've done.

As I was grabbing my coat, a sudden urge came over me to grab the magazine from the trash and take it home. In the moment, I told myself that it was simply to keep Peeta from retrieving it while I was gone. But the truth is… I'm curious. Not about their portrayal of us, but about the sex. My knowledge is pretty basic. I know what goes where, and all the reproductive reactions, but as far as all the 'extra' stuff goes - the foreplay and such - I'm relatively clueless.

Although Peeta has never indicated that he wants that sort of thing, tonight I got the vibe that he's not totally against the idea. If anything were to ever escalate to that point for us in the future, I want to be prepared. I want to know what I'm expected to do. I want us both to enjoy it.

And if I'm being completely honest about wanting, I've wanted _him_ for a while now.

It's been two years since we've been back in District 12. We've grown close, but I long to be even closer - as close as we can get. When he asked me earlier if there was ever more between us during the nights on the train, I was technically telling the truth; we never had sex. But there are other details I didn't mention.

I remember being wrapped in each other's arms, our bodies spooned together so snugly there wasn't an inch between. How occasionally I'd wake to his lower body pressed firmly against mine, his hardness impossible to ignore against my backside. I wondered then what would happen if I moved against him - if he'd recoil, or respond in kind - but I'd always decided against it. Peeta and I had just gotten to the point of being friends, and he was my only hope of getting through night after night of terrible dreams. I couldn't allow my curiosity to complicate what we had. Besides, I knew that if we'd gone any further, there'd be no turning back. I wasn't blind to the way Peeta felt about me, and I knew he'd expect more. He'd expect a lifetime. And I wasn't sure I could give him that.

So instead, I'd shift my body away from his and try my best to fall back to sleep. In the morning, Peeta would rise as if nothing had happened, as if he'd been completely oblivious of his body's reactions the night before - and maybe he was. In any case, I'd usually avoid eye contact, my face burning as we ate our breakfast in silence.

But now… things have changed. After a year and a half of sleeping together, I've experienced numerous nights of waking up with the feeling of Peeta stiff against my back. Unlike the nights on the train, however, I don't move away. Instead, I lie there, contemplating our relationship and finding it impossible to see a future without him. The only way I sleep soundly is when his arms are around me. I can't imagine anyone else's being as comforting and warm, and I sure as hell don't want to imagine them embracing someone else.

As overwhelming as the realization may be, I find myself willing to give him the lifetime he used to want together. I just don't know how to say or show it. I'm terrified of ruining what we've spent so long building between us. Yet I know that what we have is far more than friendship. We've shared a few kisses over the months, usually after nightmares. Although chaste in comparison to what we shared during the Quarter Quell, they've been full of meaning, promise, and hope.

Still, deep down I know I want something more than brief kisses of comfort; I want, once again, to feel what we experienced that night on the beach.

Releasing a long breath, I pick the magazine up and open it.

Before I read any of the stories, I flip through the pages to look at the photographs. A few are done in an artistic way, with the models in bed under covers or embracing with body parts obscured, but the majority of them are atrociously explicit. I find images of model-me doing things to model-Peeta, such as taking his penis in her mouth and sitting nude on his face; things that I didn't even know people did during sex, let alone ever thought about doing. And just when I think the acts can't get any more shocking, I turn the page and find that I'm totally wrong. To my mortification, it seems their goal was to feature any and all sexual acts and positions they possibly could.

By the time I reach the end, I know I can't read any of the stories; I can barely stomach most of the pictures. My hands shake. Peeta saw some of these photos earlier, and I have no idea which ones. Will he expect me to do these things? Will he find me boring if I don't? I'm not sure I could ever bring myself to do the majority of what's been pictured. The thought of having normal sex, just the basic knowledge of him being inside me, is awkward enough.

I'm disgusted with myself for giving into temptation, thinking I could find answers in such a ridiculous piece of garbage. So, with a steely resolve, I walk downstairs, light a match to the magazine, and throw it into the fireplace. I sit in front of it, my arms around my knees, and watch in satisfaction as it burns to ash.

Whatever the future holds for us, it will happen of its own accord. And whatever happens will happen in the way it's supposed to, not the way anyone _else_ believes it should.

* * *

After showering and working up the nerve to see Peeta again, it's late into the night.

When I finally go over to this house, I'm not surprised to see he's already changed and gone to bed. Careful not to wake him, I move to his dresser and retrieve a T-shirt from the bottom drawer to change into. I never wear my own pajamas anymore, not after Peeta bought new clothes and gave all his old shirts to me to sleep in 'if I wanted to'. They fit me like an oversized dress, with the sleeves going past my elbows and the bottoms stopping just above my knees. They're comfortable and convenient, keeping me from having to constantly bring clothes back and forth from my house, so I prefer wearing them. Plus, they smell like Peeta and make me feel closer to him.

When I slip back into the bedroom after changing, I try to get into bed as quietly as possible so I don't wake him.

"I was wondering if you'd ever show up," he whispers, barely opening his eyes.

"Of course I would. I just lost track of time," I reply. "Sorry I woke you."

"Waking up to your face is the best way to wake," he murmurs with a sleepy smile.

Looking at him now, I feel all the anxiety the magazine gave me melt away and be replaced by a serene familiarity. The best thing about Peeta is that he holds no expectations for me to be more than what I am, or do anything I'm not comfortable doing. I feel the same way about him. If the future holds more for us, I don't see that changing.

I move over and place a soft, quick kiss to his forehead before lying down against him. As I pull the blanket up over us, he kisses the top of my head and loops his arms around me.

Then, without another word spoken, we both fall into a comfortable sleep.

* * *

The next day, things are seemingly back to normal.

It's still snowing, with at least eight inches of snow already on the ground. Needless to say, I'm stuck inside for the day.

We go through some more magazines and newspapers, with a lighthearted air between us. We laugh at some of the more funny, absurd things we find, and the topics we broached yesterday aren't brought up at all.

While we're working on the Memory book, Peeta picks up his sketchbook and begins to draw me. I roll my eyes and tell him to stop, my face turning completely red as he gazes at me intently, taking every detail in. He tells me he has to "capture art whenever it presents itself", whatever that means, so I try to ignore his eyes upon me as I continue working on the book.

Later in the evening, after the sun has already set, we're both in the kitchen. Peeta insists on showing me the basics of baking, and I have nothing better to do, so I humor him by giving it a try. I'm a pretty good cook, but baking is another thing entirely.

Peeta stands by my side, giving me ingredients, measurements, and instructions, but lets me do all the handy work on my own. After it's all mixed together, he helps by putting the balls of dough onto a tray and placing it into the oven.

We stand in silence for a few minutes, and although it's a comfortable silence, it causes my mind to wander to the events of yesterday. The magazine, the conversation we had, how Peeta seemed so eager to read about us having sex.

I think of the way we are, the way he looks at me, the way he kisses me and holds me in his arms at night… and I need to know _exactly_ what it all means. The things we do and how we are together has grown organically with time, and all of it until this point has developed with an unspoken language… but now, I need it to be said. I need to know where we stand and where we're going from here. I need answers.

So as we begin cleaning up my mess, I decide now is as good a time as any to ask.

"Peeta…" I hesitate for a moment, my heart pounding in my chest. He looks up at me with eyebrows raised in question. "What do you want from this relationship?"

"I just want to be with you," he replies.

His answer is sweet, but it's far too vague.

"But… _how_ do you want to be with me?" I ask more specifically. "Where do you see us in the future?"

"Together," he shrugs. "However you want us to be."

"How do _you_ want us to be?"

I bite my lip, my stomach twisting as I await his answer. Peeta looks at me as if he's confused for a moment, then squints his eyes as if assessing me.

"Katniss, you know how I feel about you," he says more as a question than a statement.

I shrug and give a slight shake of my head, avoiding his eyes.

"I used to, but… things have changed. _We've_ changed. I don't know if you still want the same things as you did before."

He places his hand on my shoulder. I look up at him through my lashes to see him gazing at me with a bewildered sort of smile.

"We see each other every day," he points out, his eyes never leaving mine. "We practically live together. We eat meals together, we sleep together. I've held and kissed you many times."

When he puts it all that way, it seems obvious. Yet, it still isn't. I know what we have right now; it's comfortable and easy. It's predictable. I need to know if he ever wants more than that, if _we'll_ ever become more.

"I know. I just…" I sigh before mumbling in a rush, "need to know how you feel about us… _long-term_."

"It's like I told you before the Quarter Quell," he rests his other hand on my shoulder and takes a step closer to me, "I just want to spend every possible minute of the rest of my life with you."

A jolt of electricity runs through me at his words, and I can't help but smile up at him.

"You remember that?"

"The Capitol didn't taint _every_ memory." He brings his hand up to brush a lock of hair away from my eyes, and then continues in a forthright, heartfelt tone, "I meant it then and I mean it now. I want to spend the rest of my life with you - and I want whatever comes with that. But only if you want the same."

"I do," I whisper.

He grins brighter than the sun, looking as relieved and elated as I feel.

"So… _us_ ," he states thoughtfully, as if tasting the words, "We're real now."

"Peeta, it's been real for a while," I admit. "At least for me."

"Well, then that makes both of us," he says, giving a soft chuckle. His hands slide down my arms to find mine as he continues more seriously. "Look, I know things have been difficult. I'm… not always myself, and I don't know if that'll ever go away. I wasn't sure if _you_ wanted to… I didn't want you to feel obligated, as if you were forced to bear my burden for the rest of your life. That's why I never brought any of this up. But I also know that you're _it_ for me, Katniss. You're the only one I see myself growing old with. I wouldn't be half as well as I am now if it hadn't been for you. You're all I have, all I want, and all I need."

His words fill me with hope; everything he said, I feel too, with all my heart. I'm so lightheaded from happiness, it feels as if I might float from the ground. I take one of my hands from his and reach into my shirt, pulling out the locket he gave me on the beach. I wear it every day, keeping Prim and Peeta close to my heart.

"Do you remember what I said to you after you gave me this?" I ask. He nods and squeezes my hand gently. " _I need you_ , Peeta. Don't ever think you're a burden to me. We both have our demons, but we'll fight them together. Always."

"Always," he agrees. "Katniss, I…"

He bites his lip and closes his eyes, looking as if he's trying to work up the bravery to say what he needs to say. When he finally opens his eyes again to meet mine, they're so intense with longing, so electrifying that it makes my body tremble. He places his hands on the sides of my face, brushing the pads of his thumbs across my cheekbones, and just as I open my mouth to ask him what he was going to say a moment ago, he brings his lips to mine.

My response is immediate.

I wrap my arms around his neck as he brings his around my waist. What starts out as one long, tentative kiss quickly turns into multiple, frenzied ones. As I run my hands through his hair, his hands work their way under my shirt to caress the bare skin of my back and pull me closer. Our lips and tongues develop a rhythm-one that's full of pent up need and hunger. It's not chaste or calculated, but ravenous and raw with emotion.

I gasp when my back makes contact with the cold countertop. I'd been so lost in our kisses that I didn't even realize I'd been moving backwards at all. Before I can process what's happening, Peeta picks me up in one swift movement and sits me down upon the surface. Within a matter of seconds, our arms are around each other again, my ankles crossed behind his legs, and we're kissing again. My head is swimming and my heart is racing; I've wanted and waited for so long to get to this point, to feel what we'd experienced on the beach - but this is more than that. So much more. It's on a different level of craving entirely.

A sound that's both moan and sigh escapes me as his hands move around to the sides of my ribcage, his thumbs caressing the skin along the front, less than an inch below my breasts. In all the years we've known each other and all the kisses we've shared, never before has he touched me in such an intimate way. I find myself wondering what it would feel like to have his hands on my chest. My breasts seem to ache for it. At the moment, my whole entire body yearns for his touch, and every touch makes me want even more.

His mouth leaves mine to leave a trail of kisses down my neck. My lips throb at the release, in sync with the one I feel between my legs. I lean my head to the side to give him more access, and it feels so good, so impossibly good to feel his lips on my skin, I wish this moment could last forever. However, when he kisses his way back up my neck and gives my lips one last, blissful kiss, I know it's over for now.

Breathing heavily to catch our breath, he rests his hands on my shoulders and leans his forehead against mine.

"I've been wanting to do that for the longest time," he whispers.

"Me too," I admit.

"Really?" he asks, and I can hear the smile in his tone.

I give a small nod and he moves up to kiss my forehead.

"Well then," he states, "we should do it more often, now that it's out there."

I open my eyes and smile approvingly up at him.

We look into each other's eyes for a moment, and I can see the desire I feel reflecting back at me.

All too soon, the oven buzzer goes off and he takes a few steps back. I place my feet on the floor again, feeling a bit unsteady as my legs tremble. I want to say something, but I find myself unable to think of anything worthy of expressing how much I feel.

For the first time in _years_ , I feel alive and lucky that I am.

After eating a few cookies and sharing a couple more kisses, Peeta heads upstairs to take a shower. I busy myself by adding Brutus to our book, folding the corner of the page so Peeta will know to avoid it.

All the while, my mind reels from what happened between us. I can't stop smiling, and my entire body feels tingly and energized. It's been so long since I've felt this way, I'd almost forgotten what it was like.

* * *

Later that night, I find myself unable to fall asleep.

Our bodies are curved into each other, his chest is against my back and his arm is around me with his hand in mine. I can tell by the way he's breathing that he's already fallen into slumber. As much as I try, though, I can't keep my mind from wandering, reliving the kisses we shared earlier and anticipating future ones.

And then I feel it.

My heart pounds as Peeta's erection is once again hard against my backside.

A thrill shoots through me, settling between my legs in an aching throb. I squeeze my thighs together, trying to find relief, but it doesn't do any good; in fact, it only makes it worse. Tentatively, I bring his hand upwards an inch or so and place it upon my breast, covering his hand with my own and pressing against it. He's wholly unaware of what's going on, I know that, but it feels so amazing to feel his touch that I arch my back slightly and release a quiet moan.

He responds in his sleep by thrusting his hips forward, pressing his lower body firmly against mine.

A pang of curiosity and desire rouses in my gut. We both lie still for a few seconds, until I find myself moving back, wiggling my bottom against him in an effort to elicit a response. I'm not disappointed. His arms tighten around me and he presses himself into me again, burying his face into my hair and emitting a deep groan. I sigh as it sends a pleasant chill down my back.

Just then, Peeta's body goes rigid as he finally wakes. His breath quickens, and I smile to myself as he realizes exactly how close we are. He must think that I'm asleep and that his hand is currently on my breast by his own accord, because he tries to move it away. I respond by tightening my grip and keeping him there.

He leans down and kisses my shoulder, then moves up to nuzzle his face into the crook of my neck, planting a soft, lingering kiss there.

"Katniss?" he asks lowly. The vibration against my neck makes my skin prickle.

"Hmm?"

"Were you having a nightmare?"

"No," I reply, turning myself over to face him. "I've been wide awake for a while now. I can't sleep."

I can tell he's surprised by my answer. His eyes widen for a moment, then slowly narrow as he searches my face.

"Then why were you squirming–" Before he can finish asking his question, I answer by placing my lips to his.

He groans in response and curves his hand around the back of my neck, our kiss quickly deepening. Feeling an intense hunger take over me, I bring my leg over his thigh to feel him against me again. It's not close enough, however, so a moment later I find myself on top of him.

His hands caress my back before sliding down and resting upon my hips. I can feel him hard between my legs, and I throb with the urge to move against him, to find some sort of relief. There's no way he's unaware that I can feel him, and he makes no effort to adjust our bodies. As much as I try to work up the courage to move in the way my body desires, however, I'm still hesitant.

As if reading my mind, he begins to grind against me. I give a startled gasp against his lips, which curve into a smile against mine. And just like that, my inner conflict is dissipated.

I decide to go for it.

I rock my hips slowly at first, with Peeta reacting in rhythm. His hands move from my hips to my backside with a squeeze and continue to caress me as he keeps them there. The need behind his touch assures me that he wants me exactly how I want him, and it allows me to give in completely to the friction between us.

As our kisses become more urgent and our bodies move together with a growing intensity, it ignites a flame deep within me, and I soon find myself craving more.

I recall how wonderful it felt to have his lips on my neck, so I decide to see if Peeta has the same reaction when I do it him. My lips leave his to plant languid, open-mouthed kisses upon his jawline, down the side of his neck, and along his collarbone. Judging by the sounds he makes, it's apparent he's just as much a fan of it as I am.

I move further down his body, lifting his shirt to trail kisses along his stomach. His throaty groans and gasps of delight add fuel to my fire, and I find myself wanting to bring him as much pleasure as I can. He tenses, breathing heavily, as my mouth reaches the waistband of his boxers and I run my hand along the outline of his erection. Then, feeling brave at his raspy moan, I slip my fingers under the waistband and pull down, freeing him. Peeta quickly props himself upon his elbows and I glance up to see if what I'm doing is okay. By the stunned, lustful gleam in his eyes, my silent question is answered.

He's nowhere close to being as monstrously huge as the guy's in the magazine, but it's still rather large, and the realization that it's going to eventually be inside me is a little bit daunting. Besides the magazine, I've seen a few penises while in the Capitol. It was never by choice or a welcomed sight. However, looking at Peeta's is different… because it's a part of _him_ and he's mine.

And I am his.

I can feel him watching me, curious and expectant. So with a slight shyness, I wrap my hand around him and begin moving up and down, noticing how his skin glides with my hand over the hardness.

Suddenly, I feel compelled to lean down and kiss it. So I do.

Peeta inhales a sharp breath, but doesn't give any indication that he didn't enjoy it. In fact, it's quite the opposite. I look at him as he releases a shaky breath; a smile forms on his lips as he opens his eyes and they meet mine.

If just a simple kiss can make him react like that, I wonder how he'd react if I did something more….

So I surprise myself by leaning down and covering the tip of him with my mouth.

I'd seen the act depicted in one of the magazine photos, and although I'd found it appalling to see a portrayal of us doing something so intimate for all to see, it also made me curious. While I initially thought it was weird and questionable as to why anyone would do such a thing, I'd also found myself wondering if Peeta would like it if I did it to him.

I look up at him through my lashes just in time to see his eyes roll shut and his head fall back. He emits a deep groan of approval, and my conscience is put at ease. I was wary that he'd think I was disgusting for doing this, but he thankfully seems to be enjoying it - _very_ much so.

It fills me with confidence, realizing that I hold the ability to bring him such intense pleasure. So, feeling emboldened, I swirl my tongue over him before taking him further into my mouth. I can only fit less than half of it, but Peeta doesn't seem to mind as he begins thrusting to meet the bobbing movements I'm making. The sounds of gratification coming from him inspire me to keep going.

"Katniss?" he asks all of a sudden, his voice low and raspy. I stop what I'm doing and look up at him, afraid he might tell me that he hates what I'm doing. When I see the euphoric, wanton expression on his face, though, it appears the opposite is true. He hesitates for a moment, drawing his eyebrows together before asking, "How… _far_ are you wanting this to go tonight?"

I sit up and shrug.

"As far as you want," I whisper.

"I think you know the answer to that," Peeta replies with a sheepish grin. It falters a second later, however, as he bites his lip and furrows his brow. "I just… I don't have anything…" He gives me a meaningful look, and I immediately know what he's trying to get at without having to say it.

I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear and nod as I clear my throat.

"It's okay," I reply. He seems disappointed for a moment, as if I've just snuffed out the flame between us. Rolling my eyes, a timid smile comes to my face as I reassure him, "I, um, I've been taking a contraceptive every month for a while now. Just in case."

"Oh," he whispers, looking both startled and relieved.

He pats the bed beside him, so I crawl up to it, and the next thing I know, I'm on my back with Peeta half on top of me as we kiss again. I gasp against his lips as his hand trails down my body, rests between my legs, and begins to rub me over the dampness of my underwear. It feels so exquisite I can barely concentrate on kissing; my breath is coming out in unmeasured spurts and my heart is beating so fast it might explode.

Peeta smiles against my mouth before planting a few quick kisses to my neck. He then moves further down and lifts up my shirt. My eyes widen as I realize I'm totally exposed to him. I never wear a bra to bed, but that's not the only way in which I feel exposed. All my scars are on display for him to him see, and I can't help feeling self-conscious of it. He doesn't seem to notice or mind, though, as he leans down and takes the tip of one of my breasts in his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. I immediately arch my back, moaning as tremors of delight spread to every nerve ending in my body.

He then does the same to my other breast as I remove my shirt and throw it to the floor. His hand slips beneath my underwear to touch me directly, and the feeling is so intense all I can do is close my eyes, gasping and moaning my pleasure as I thread my fingers through his hair.

When his mouth leaves my breast, I open my eyes and look at him, wondering why. I'm answered as he begins to leave kisses down the length of my stomach. My eyes widen as his hand leaves the confines of my underwear and he leans up to remove them from my body. He gives me a questioning glance, as if asking for permission. I give a curt nod and lift my hips from the bed to help him slide them off.

He looks at my body once they're removed, taking in my naked form. I'd feel like covering myself up if it wasn't for the awestruck glint in his eyes. Despite my scars, he's looking at me as if I'm the most magnificent thing he's ever seen. I feel beautiful and desirable under his gaze, and that's not something I'd anticipated. For so long, I'd been afraid of this, worried that he'd find my body unattractive, but now I realize all that fretting was for nothing.

Peeta parts my trembling legs and settles between them. I watch, holding my breath as I realize what he's about to do. He kisses up my thigh before finally bringing his mouth to my center, and I cry out at the contact. This is like nothing I've ever felt before; it's pure, unbridled bliss. He takes it a step further, sliding one finger, then two, in and out of me, faster and faster, as his tongue works its magic. I grab handfuls of sheets and buck against him, uninhibited as moans and sighs escape me.

All the ecstasy builds up, coiling up into a tight ball in my stomach, until finally it bursts, sending euphoric shockwaves to every inch of my body. I gasp loudly, stars dancing behind my eyelids. My entire being pulsates as Peeta kisses his way back up to my lips.

I hope _that_ becomes a regular thing.

If I'd known my body could feel this way, that Peeta was capable of giving such overwhelming pleasure, I would've done this a long time ago.

His erection pokes against my inner thigh as he whispers into my ear, "Are you sure?"

Unable to find my voice, I nod my consent.

Peeta kisses the space between my earlobe and neck, then sits back to remove the rest of his clothes. He doesn't have his prosthetic on, but it doesn't hinder his movements.

I prop myself up on my elbows, reveling at the sight of him and feeling like the luckiest woman alive that he's all mine. My eyes roam his body, appreciating things like the angular curve of his jaw, and how the muscles of his arms, chest, and stomach flex with every move he makes. I also observe that the hair travelling from his navel downward is a shade or two darker than the hair on his head.

It suddenly hits me why Peeta was gazing at me with such awe earlier. Looking at him now, I don't see scars or a missing leg - I see _him_. I see a person I've fallen deeply for. I see perfection; not as in the absence of flaws, but being so overcome by beauty that imperfections cease to exist.

I suck in a deep breath, readying myself as he moves between my legs and positions himself at my center. He glides his erection against me, coating himself with my wetness, before steadying the tip at my opening.

"Ready?" he asks, giving me one last chance to change my mind.

I nod and close my eyes tightly, waiting for the pain that's sure to come.

Gently and slowly, he pushes into me. I emit a loud, throaty gasp at the sensation and so does he. There's a little pain, but it's not half as bad as I was expecting; it's more like being way too full. He pulls himself out before thrusting back into me a few times, keeping a tentative pace, then lowers his head to capture my lips with his.

I wrap my arms around his neck, our moans and sighs mixing together as we kiss. Before long, whatever pain I felt in the beginning quickly subsides to pleasure as my body adjusts to him, and his thrusts become faster and harder.

I can't believe what's happening between us, but more than that, I'm surprised by how natural it feels. I thought it'd be awkward to be with Peeta in this way, but it's the total opposite; I've never been more sure of myself, of what I want and need. I've never felt so alive, and I never want it to end.

But end it does.

Peeta cries out as a gush of warmth fills me.

Then, sweaty, red-faced, and panting, he kisses my lips and leans his forehead against mine. I run my hands down his back, smiling contentedly as he tells me breathlessly, "That… was _amazing_. Better than I could've ever imagined. You're…" He suddenly plants quick kisses all over my face, making me laugh, then whispers lowly into my ear, "Everything. You're _everything_ to me, Katniss."

* * *

After, when we're wrapped in each other's arms, he trails his fingertips down my arm as he tells me, "By the way, what I was going to say in the kitchen earlier was…" He falls silent for a few seconds, then kisses the top of my head. "I love you."

I smile, feeling deliriously happy, and place a kiss to his chest.

Before I can reply that I feel the same about him, he whispers, "You love me. Real or not real?"

"Real," I answer strongly. "Most definitely real."


End file.
